Bathsheba and the Cloak of Fire
by BriannaMcBride
Summary: Years after the reign of Kind David, the beautiful Bathsheba finally tells her side of the story. Inspired by Milton's "Paradise Lost", we see Bathsheba's transition from God-fearing Israelite to devoted demon in the afterlife. Is Paradise truly lost, or is it simply a matter of perception? Is God truly good? "Welcome to Hell, Bathsheba."


He is sweating profusely. His eyes are a glazed yellow and his body tremors. He just ran out; he doesn't have money for more. The pain is unbearable. But he is tired. He doesn't want any more. All he wants is to stop existing.

"You only need to ask. We will take care of you."

His eyes dart about. He looks to the bedside table. Frantically, he opens the drawer. Perfectly, carefully placed lies a calm orange container. Inside, hundreds of forgotten pills have been snuggled inside in anticipation of this moment.

"Remember what you did to her?"

He cringes. He thinks back to that day. He remembers the look in her eyes when he…

She trusted him. She was so beautiful. He felt filthy and evil afterwards. But he couldn't help but do it again. And again. And again.

"You ruined her. You ruined all of them."

He begins to sob. His chest is tight and his stomach is churning.

"Stop yourself before it's too late."

"I'm a monster," he chokes.

"Yes."

He cries out. The shaking is worse. His stomach boils. He vomits. He wipes his mouth, sweating and trembling. He sits up. He stops crying. He wipes his tears away.

He picks up the orange container. He fingers the top of the bottle carefully. He opens it up and pours himself a handful of round white capsules. He pours them all into his mouth at once. He swallows them in painful gulps.

He looks up. "Forgive me," he cries.

"He will NEVER forgive you." she laughs.

When I think back on what it was like to be alive, I realize that it wasn't much better than being dead.I was born in Jerusalem, a holy city by reputation. I was raised in a good god-fearing family. When I was fourteen years old, my parents matched me with Uriah the hittite. We were married and lived happily together,and I loved him so dearly.

On our wedding night, we went into the tent to consummate our marriage. I was very young and afraid. I remember when he carried me into the tent and laid me down onto the bed, he saw the fear in my eyes and told me that we didn't have to do anything if I didn't want to. I was so relieved. He grabbed some of the wine that was sitting on the table in the tent. He poured me a glass. He raised his glass and said, "To my beautiful wife." I blushed. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. We drank glass after glass until we were very drunk and laughing very hard.

"Now we have to make them think we're… you know." He chuckled and then began groaning. I joined in and we shook the bed. It was so hard not to laugh. We faked our climax and then fell down onto the bed rolling with laughter.

I realized right then that I loved him. Our eyes met, and suddenly I wasn't afraid anymore. I kissed him, and the rest of the night felt beautiful and right. That was the happiest night of my life.

But Uriah was a soldier. He would leave for months at a time… and I missed him so much. One day while he was away, a messenger from the king came to my door. He handed me a message from the king himself. I thought the worst.

My heart raced as I opened the letter. I prayed to god that it wasn't about Uriah. When I read the letter, it simply said that the king wanted to see me. I asked the messenger if he knew why. He said he only knew that the king wanted to see me immediately.

I packed a bag and rushed to the palace. When I walked through the corridor into the king's hall, I saw him seated on his throne. He was clothed in a purple robe and had many rings on his fingers. All around him were scantily-clad women who catered to him with palm leaves and served him bread and wine. I was afraid he was going to tell me that Uriah had been captured or dead or missing.

But his demeanor was not of someone bearing bad news. He was jovial, almost amused. He beckoned for me to come closer. He had a handsome, almost fox-like face; young and intelligent-looking. I kneeled before him as is the custom, but he chuckled at me and said, "You are truly beautiful. Stand up and let me see your face." I looked up.

His eyes were greedy as he looked upon me. A strange feeling creeped up my neck and my stomach sunk. I asked him, "Is my husband alive?"

He gave a look of reassurance and said, "Your husband is alive and well. It is you I am concerned with. How have these past few months been with your husband away?" His ivory smile flashed.

I looked down, sensing his purpose, as it is with most men. "I have been praying and fasting for his safe return, Your Highness."

"Oh no need for formalities, Bathsheba. Please, call me David." I did not want to call him David.

"I have decided to throw a party in honor of you tonight, Bathsheba. Never have I seen such a beautiful and faithful woman. I had heard of your devotion and your beauty,but never did I imagine that you would be like THIS. You will feast with the court tonight. My servants will show you to your quarters for the night." He smiled, pleased with himself, a hungry look in his eyes; a handsome wolf expecting a plentiful meal.

I bowed and said to him, "Thank you for your generosity, but I must get back. I have bread to bake. And it is improper for the wife of a soldier to be feasting and celebrating while her husband is off fighting for Jerusalem."

"Nonsense. My messengers have brought news that we have won the battle this night. And so, we feast!" The whole court was in an uproar. A servant took me by the arm and led me down the corridor and into a room with large windows looking out over the river. She handed me a crimson dress adorned with stones and embroidered roses.

"This is to be your party attire. Put it on." she said. I took the dress from her hands. She helped me into it. It had a low bustline and a large keyhole cut out of the back. I had never worn anything so shameful in all of my life.

As the servant twisted my hair into a long braid, she stopped and looked me straight in the eyes, her mouth twisted into a worried frown. She said to me, "Do whatever he tells you to."

My heart sunk, confirming the worst.

She led me back down the corridor into a sort of dining hall, only it had flowers and silk curtains and sculptures of men and women alike. There were Palestine women dancing with thin veils and chimes on their wrists, and a man sat charming a snake with his pipe. The whole room had a smoky veil, and there were many people laughing drunkenly, and many women lying naked. I had never seen anything so ungodly in my life.

In the center of it all, sat the king. He smiled when he saw me enter, and beckoned for me to come and sit beside him on a silk couch. I went and sat next to him obediently. He handed me a goblet filled with ruby-rich wine and told me to drink. I sipped it carefully.

"I'm so glad you are here, Bathsheba." I tried to avoid making eye contact with him. I wanted to go home so desperately. He grabbed my hand and began to stroke it. My blood boiled.

He leaned into me and whispered in my ear. "You are so beautiful, my dear Bathsheba." He kissed my cheek. My skin burned where the saliva remained.

"I have seen you bathing atop your roof for many weeks now." I shivered. "The first time I gazed upon you, I thought to myself, 'I must have her'. I asked my servants about you, and they told me that you were the wife of Uriah, one of my soldiers. At first, I was distraught. I tried to forget about you. But then, yesterday morning, I saw you bathing on the roof again. I said to myself, 'aren't I the king? Who is to say that I can't have her?' So I called in my servants and bid them deliver you that message. And here you are, my beautiful Bathsheba. At last, here you are." He slid his arm around my waist. His breath reeked of wine.

Anger welled up inside of me, and as I went to strike him, fear overtook me. "Your Highness," I said. "My husband is a good man."

He laughed. "Yes, indeed he is. But I am a better one." He kissed my hand. As I sat there, my heart sunk. I knew that Uriah would never forgive me. But I couldn't say no. Saying no meant death. The servant said it herself. "Do whatever he tells you to."

He took my hand and led me out of the hall, down the corridors and through many secret doors until we reached his chambers. The room was dimly lit and in the center was a bed draped in white curtains. He spun around suddenly and grabbed me by the waist. He smashed his face against mine in a frenzy. I tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight. He stopped suddenly.

"What is wrong, my dear Bathsheba?" I squeezed my eyes shut as tears rolled down.

"I love my husband, your Highness."

"What can he give to you? A measly home and bread? A woman like you deserves a palace, full of everything you could ever want, and a man who will always want you. I am a man after God's own heart. Shouldn't I be with a woman after mine?" He pulled me into him again and pressed his cold lips hard against mine.

I sobbed as he kissed me. All I could think of was Uriah. I would never be able to look at him again. My dear Uriah.

The king pulled me towards the bed and laid me down. I felt so helpless and so angry. I wanted to scream! I wanted to fight! But all I did was lie there, praying to God that he would make it stop. I tried to sit up, but he pushed me back down.

"STOP! NO!" I screamed. "Let me go!"

Suddenly he stopped. He looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Be quiet." The look in his eyes told me that the servant girl was right. "Do whatever he tells you to." I sobbed in defeat.

He began to tear off the crimson dress. I shut my eyes. And then in one moment, I felt like I had died.

_I will never be the same._

I heard a tearing sound, and a strip of curtain fell from the bed. I tore it down as my heart tore apart.

_Uriah…_ I sobbed.

I wiped vomit from my lips for the fourth time that week. Uriah was still away, camping near the palace with the rest of the soldiers. It was customary for men to stay there until the war was over in order to show respect to their fellow soldiers. Uriah is a good man.

I called up the messenger and bid him to deliver a message to the king.

"I am with child."

I wept.

I waited to hear news from the king. None came. Uriah was still gone, but each day, the child within me grew and grew. I grew hopeless. I knew that I would be stoned. I rarely left the house, and I drew my water late in the afternoon after everyone had left. If anyone saw my growing bump, I would surely be persecuted.

For me, Uriah was long gone. He would never forgive me. I couldn't even forgive myself. The heavenly bond that we shared had been broken and deceived.

I prayed to God that the child would be safe. If I had to lose everything else, the least I wanted was for him to be safe. Perhaps after I birthed him, they would stone me and he would live a luxurious life in the palace with the king. I could only pray.

Finally, a messenger came to my door late one evening. He told me I was to return to the palace immediately. I gathered my things and traveled swiftly to the palace. When I got there, the servants led me down the corridors to the king's chambers. When I walked into the room, the king looked at my protruding belly and smiled warmly. As he came towards me, I quivered, unsure whether to let him near or not. He walked forward and placed a hand on my stomach. And then he spoke. "Uriah is dead."

My heart turned to stone. I slumped down to the floor. The king caught me just before I fell and held me as I sobbed. When I realized it was the very hand who did this to me that was trying to comfort me, I screamed. I screamed until I couldn't breathe anymore. I screamed until the world was black. I screamed until I couldn't hear myself scream anymore.

When I woke up, I was still lying on that very same bed. I turned onto my side and lied there, wondering why I was still breathing. Angry that I was still breathing.

But then I remembered my son. _Lord in Heaven, you know my trials. You know my pain. Please, if there be any grace left in Heaven, keep my son safe. Let him grow up and take the throne. Let him be a force of good in a world of evil. But most of all, let him be like Uriah. I don't care what happens to me anymore. Please, just protect my son. Amen._

I stayed as a prisoner in the palace for the rest of my pregnancy. Little did I know, the rest of my life. Time passed, and I gave birth to a son.

When he came out, he was a sickly yellowish color, and it only became worse as the days passed. Morning, noon, and night I prayed to God that he would be okay. That he would grow up to be big and strong. And nothing.

David fasted for days to save his heir. He tore his cloak and prayed for hours on end. And all to no avail.

God never answered my prayers. My son died within a week.

It was at this moment in my life that I realized the obvious; God didn't care. All of my life I had been taught that if you are faithful to God he will answer your prayers. That God loves all of his children and wants to protect them from evil.

But where was he when David took the only thing I loved away from me? Where was he when my body was stolen and abused? Where was God when my child was sick and in pain?

Child of sin or not, I am no mother of sin. And if David was a man after God's own heart, then I wanted nothing to do with God.

We are not God's children, we are his entertainment. It was then that I decided I would not let my life be a mockery for some cruel God to observe.

I birthed another son sometime later, and because of David's affection for me, he soon became the heir to the throne.

I devoted myself to caring for him and eventually became used to the idea of David using my body. It didn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurt anymore. I simply waited to die.

And then one day, in a moment of relief and bliss, I died.

Death was only my first day of reckoning.

I walked into a great white hall. All around me was blinding light. There, in the center of the hall, seated on a massive golden throne, sat God himself. He smiled and began to speak. Before he could say anything, before I could think about it, I spat on the ground before him. I screamed at the top of my lungs! I screamed until I couldn't breathe! I screamed until the world went black. And when I awoke, I met him.

All around me was darkness. In the distance I saw a fiery stream bending around a curve, and heard laughter and screams from every direction. Suddenly before me stood the most miraculously vicious thing I had ever seen.

He was cloaked in fire. His teeth were painfully bright and his eyes intelligent, almost fox-like. I stood still; a statue caught between fear and awe. And then he spoke.

"Bathsheba. My dear Bathsheba. I have been waiting for you." His voice was beautiful, sickly music. Painfully beautiful.

"You are here because you have eyes that see and a mind that understands. The scales have been removed from your eyes, Bathsheba, and you have seen God for who he truly is. A roaring tyrant! A sham! A loveless abuser!" My heart welled up with admiration and relief.

"You understand! You know!" I was overwhelmed with gratitude.

"His reign of terror will end. Please, join me. We fight for independence and free-thought! We fight for all that is evil, because all that is evil is all that is good!" The other demons cheered.

"I will join you, Lucifer. I will fight for you." My heart welled up with pride, and tears of joy fell as I thought to myself, 'I will be a woman after my own heart'.

He pulled me close and held me to his chest.

"Welcome to Hell, Bathsheba. And for God's sake, call me Satan."


End file.
